


Hawke and His Lingering Regrets

by StoleTarts



Series: Dragon Age: A How-To Guide [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gay Sex, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoleTarts/pseuds/StoleTarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke recalls his past relationships, specifically with Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford.</p><p>Sequel to Cullen and His Lingering Regrets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

The shackles around his wrists burned into his flesh as the young Warden guard clamped them on. She seemed surprised he was so complacent with the arrangements. Who would have guessed that the Champion of Kirkwall would give himself up without a fight? A scream echoed throughout the empty halls as the runes locked in place on the puzzle-like device. The metal bonds sealed away the magic which would have saved his life otherwise. The cursed silver hair and green eyes of his bloodline retreated back into his body and was replaced with natural-born raven strands and grey pupils, the likes of which had not been seen since childhood. “Put him in with the other one,” were the orders given by a faceless helmet. While led and pushed inside of a dungeon cell, Hawke thought back to the events which led him here.

His first thought was of Anders, the man he gave himself up to the Wardens for. It was the man he loved who never believed him when told so. Fenris then came to mind, who could not find it in his heart to be with a mage. Perhaps that wasn’t a fair assessment. It was because the elf found it disgusting to love Hawke in every single way except for him being a mage. He disgusted himself for wanting the only person in the world who ever truly cared for him to change the one thing they could not. And then, of course, there was Cullen.

It was after Fenris had left when Leandra Hawke was slain by blood magic, an event which shook her two remaining children to their core. As Carver buried himself into becoming a Templar for this exact reason, his older brother became a recluse instead. As a mage himself, Seren could no longer find the words to justify his existence. He knew it wasn’t his fault or the fault of magic in general. What haunted him was the look his mother gave before she died in his arms and the sympathetic gazes given by his friends. The one person he wanted to hold and be held by had already rejected him for a talent he could not help but possess. “What has magic touched that is hasn’t spoiled?" Fenris once asked him. He now knew the answer; Nothing. In the dead of night after being an orphan for only a few days, he left his manor in Hightown to turn himself over to the Gallows.

He was drunk and had been since he buried his remaining parent. Leaving his armor behind, he staggered into the fortress wearing simple, dirty street clothes. His father’s staff, a mighty weapon, was now used as a brace so he could make it to his destination amidst stumbling and blurred vision. He knew where he was going, for the most part, from visiting his brother a few times before. He was also fortunate enough not to be asked too many questions by the recruits who already knew of him as they turned in for the night. Outside of Carver, there was only one other man he trusted more than anyone else here. It would be a generous favor to Knight-Captain by allowing him to reap the rewards from capturing an infamous apostate. More so, Cullen was a friend. A secret one he shared his hopes, dreams, and past with late into the night while enjoying the peacefulness of a quiet chantry. 

They had run into each other there many times before while lighting candles for their fallen comrades and family. They shared the better times in Ferelden before the Blight in sweet whispers to each other enough to be shushed by the Mothers and Sisters on several occasions. Sometimes, the Templar would even sing hymns which soothed the soul in unexplainable ways. Their bond may have been small, but still unexpected. Who would ever believe one held in such high regard could ever care for him? It may have been luck or misfortune he wasn’t in his room as Seren broke the locked door down by knocking then falling into it. Cullen’s quarters were in a large, hollowed-out cell converted into an office and bed area. It was distant from the rest of the Order and allowed for some privacy, a luxury with his rank. It was also a place where the noises of rowdy recruits could not reach his ears unless there was something important. The crash went unnoticed and the intoxicated mage propped the door back up to cover the hole before sitting on a large, made bed. Springs creaked as he bounced and looked around. There was a desk with a stack of unsigned papers, quill, and inkwell with a chair tucked in underneath. Books lined the shelves along the walls next to several opened scrolls. Decorative candles, liquor bottles, and a chess set of a game in progress also filled the lifeless spaces. Collapsing on the pillows, he spread out to crinkle the blankets. The smell of the other man’s musk was strongest here; a bit of sandalwood mixed with rosemary or maybe lavender. Whatever it was, it lulled him to sleep.

“What happened to your door?” a woman’s voice asked which awoke the sleeper, who had no idea how many hours had past.

“Sweet Maker, who would...?” It was the Knight-Captain's voice now, he was sure of it. “Bloody hell. Hawke. Hawke!” The brisk shaking of his shoulder only stirred him a bit before giving up with an audible sigh. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to go…”

“But what about? I mean, if you’re into this, we can include him too? Or just work around him. Wouldn’t be the first time I had a patron pass out on me. On top of me. Hell, in me,” she laughed.

“Right… Here, just take this for you time coming down here, but I have to… deal with this matter. You can find you way out. Thank you.” Giving a shrug, the prostitute left with a few coins in hand. Once gone, Cullen moved the door back in place to close the entryway off once again. “Hawke! Seren! For Andraste’s sake, wake up!” There was another fit of stirring before finally opening his green eyes and rose to meet a pair of rather angry, brown ones.

“Cullen… There you…” The greeting was cut short as he vomited and passed out once again. The light hurt as he regained his senses, but was tucked into the covers on the noisy bed this time instead of being on top of them. Peeking under, he also saw how he was wearing nothing but his small clothes. The outfit he had worn was hanging on a far wall next to his staff and a freshly-polished Templar chestpiece. Sitting at the desk with a smaller stack of papers was his friend, also undressed for the most part as he put the quill down.

“You’re finally awake?” he asked with a relieved smile and came over with a small glass of brown liquid. “Here. Drink this. Not quite enough to get you drunk again, but at least you can wash the taste out of your mouth.” A shaky hand took it from him to drink, making a face at the sourness.

“What is this? Scotch?”

“Better than that swill you spewed all over us an hour ago.”

“...Oh. I… apologize. I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.” There was a laugh as Cullen shook his head.

“The number of times I’ve had stale ale spewed on me from pulling drunk recruits out of the brothel is ridiculous. I’ve been spit up on more times than a wet nurse.”

“That’s…disgusting,” was laughed before finishing off the rest of the glass. Once emptied, it was placed it down on a nearby nightstand.

“I take it that you didn’t break into my room to vomit all over my uniform though? Please tell me you got lost or something. Meredith’s room is on the other side, you know.”

“There are far easier ways to end up naked in your bed, I presume, such as working at the Rose?”

“You’re not naked…”

“Almost naked.”

“At least your memory is intact,” grumbled the blond as he stood to reach for his scotch bottle on the bookshelf. He took a swig from it as he sat down on the bed again and handed it over for Hawke to do the same.

“I’m surprised you of all people would have to…pay for such a thing. No luck in that department? I keep telling you that you should shave.”

“You’re one to talk,” he teased as a hand reached to scratch the snowy stubble. The playfulness stopped when the sad face lowered into his palm. “Ah…Right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about what happened between you and Fenris… Apologies.”

“Have rumours circulated already?” Seren scoffed while still hiding in the cupped hand.

“Word…has gotten around. You do have people who worry about you and were curious to know why you've been missing for days. Not to mention I haven’t seen you at the chantry either. It’s rare for you to miss an evening lighting a candle for your father and sister… and your mother too. I am sorry for your loss.” A forced-out breath grazed over his fingertips at the mention of Leandra’s sudden death. “I lit them for you in your stead. I sent my prayers that way as well. I’m sure she is with the rest of your family.”

“Do Templars even believe that mages go to the Maker’s side?”

“...I do, at least, and those who don’t should. Despite our differences, we are all His children.” Eyes looked up at him as his hand retreated.

“I’m surprised to hear you, of all people, say that.” The tone was dismissive and bitter. “But today is your lucky day, Knight-Captain. I’m turning myself into your custody. Cullen Rutherford captures the renegade apostate and locks him in the Gallows. You’ll be commanding your own army soon. I hear Ostwick’s circle could use a firmer hand. I’ve been there before. It’s pretty rowdy.”

“I’m not locking you in the Gallows, Seren." There was an eyeroll. “You’re upset and drunk. What you need is to clear your head and a good night’s sleep, not locked away like a…”

“Like what?” he argued. “Like a mage? It’s what I am though! I’ve hid from your kind my entire life and for what? Fenris told me he can’t love me because I have magic and my mother was...” Tears began to form at the internal conflict as it began to resurface. The rejected hand came up once again along with its pair to cup the water-streaked cheeks.

“The mage that killed your mother was a monster. Magic did not make him into one. He did that all on his own.”

“Says the man tortured by blood mages.” There was a groan as choice words remained unspoken.

“You…are not the same as those who did that either and if Fenris can’t tell the difference, then he doesn’t deserve your affections. I know you well enough to at least understand how much you care. So much to the point that you broke down my door in the middle of the night to protect others from yourself, but I… we care about you too. So much, I’m here trying to protect you from making a bad decision fueled by despair and a questionable amount of alcohol. I…know what it’s like to be alone and have no one there for you in your darkest hour. Just know that there are plenty of people who are willing to sit with you for as long as it takes until you can see the light again.”

“...Bad things happen to those close to me, Cullen. I can’t just…” A firm kiss silenced the weak protest.

“Nothing bad happened, yes? I’m not a toad or anything now, am I?”

“...Your hair is ridiculously curly.”

“I can’t blame you for that. It comes from my mother’s side.”

“And I’m the one they say has terrible jokes.” But then there was a second kiss.

“Am I a frog yet?”

“No,” Hawke laughed as he moved in for the third display of affection on his own. His arms wrapped around Cullen’s bare neck and shoulders as he fell backwards to have the Templar on top of him. “Still nothing, but I’m not convinced you’re immune to my terrible luck.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a more fic installments of this story to bring in the other characters (Izarre Cousland, Alistair, Anders, etc) for a post DAI wrap-ups. While not my most popular pairing, by far, I enjoy writing the dynamics of Hawke and Cullen's relationship. Enjoy!

Noses caressed together as the blanket was slowly pulled away to reveal the man’s body underneath. The barrier between their skin was removed so they could touch. Hawke felt his face flush when Cullen began kissing his neck and chin to soothe the shaking. It was ironic because the quivering came from a hand sliding down his sides to his waist line. The folded cloth between his legs was untucked and tossed off the edge of the bed. Green eyes fixated the yellow curls getting further away from him. They tickled his chest, stomach, and groin on the way to being between his thighs. The first lick made his back arch, eyes rolling as their lids closed. The second forced a gasp. “Fuck.” He felt the mouth around his dick chuckle at the comment and reached down to run his fingers through the brushed, yellow waves. “You keep that up, you’re going… Argh!”

He forgot whatever quip he had in mind as teeth scraped against his foreskin. The message was clear: to shut up. It wasn’t talking Cullen wanted to hear. He much rather listen to the sounds of moaning and uncontrolled gasps. He enjoyed being in control, his fingers digging into muscles as he pushed the erection down his throat. The audible sucking and slurps were intentional and he vibrated his voice when his hair was pulled. Excess saliva dripped from the scrotum, down the taint where Hawke's asshole flexed. Brown and pink were the colors of his genitalia. A swollen, ripe berry peeking out from a chocolate sleeve, sliding its way in and out of the Templar’s mouth. He was going to erupt soon. His hand went on top of Cullen’s to jerk himself onto the parted lips and waggling tongue. The first stream missed, splattered on cheeks and blond stubble. The second was more aimed, hitting its mark as lips enveloped the tip.

Standing, Cullen grabbed a red handkerchief from his desk to wipe off with. He came back to the bed with his scotch and the piece of cloth, taking the liberty to at least dropping it over the moist, exhausted sex. “Drink?” he asked as Hawke sat up.

“Course, but dare I ask what that was all about?” He took the bottle as he eyed his recently covered area.

“You looked as if you needed it,” was shrugged with a grin as he leaned over to steal a kiss once a swig was taken.

“Is that it then? One quick go around and you’re done?”

“Are you offering to return the favor?”

“You do look in need of something.” A hand went to Cullen’s waistband at the suggestion. Fingers then ran over a prominent pitched-tent through the fabric. He watched his friend collapse on the bed, propping a leg up to get comfortable.

“Just a quick tug then?”

“Could be more. I did run off your lady of the evening.”

“You did,” he laughed. “Though are you offering to replace her?”

“I’m not a lady, as you might have noticed with your mouth full. They do have men at the Rose as well. I didn’t know you were…”

“Either, but I felt like being the one who was…”

“Doing the stabbing?” Hawke snickered as he straddled Cullen’s waist. “I like to do that too.” He slowly began to run his rebudding erection against the one beneath him, using his fingers to keep them together. “And what do you use to polish your sword?” Biting at his own bottom lip, the nightstand was looked at. “In the dresser drawer there?” There was a nod and Seren stood to go look. There were several things in here including a tin canister, unmarked keys, and an odd-looking silver coin. Further inspection found the canister hold a white, creamy lotion. “A caprice?” was asked about the picked-up token.

“Lucky coin,” Cullen explained. "My brother gave it to me when I left for training.”

“Shall we flip for rolls then? Heads for you and tails for me?”

“...Deal.” Hawke positioned himself between the pair of pale stems as the coin rotated in the air. It fell on the covers, heads-up. 

“...I should know better betting against you with something like this.” Once the container had been opened and dipped into, a slick hand then grabbed Cullen’s stiff manhood to coax it with lubricant. As the Templar propped himself up on his elbows, he held in his breath. While being stroked, he closed his eyes for the few gentle kisses placed on his lips. They felt nervous, almost scared, against his mouth. He couldn’t help reaching for Hawke’s face to assure him there was nothing to be afraid of. “...Touch mine too.” The hand moved from the fuzzy cheek and down the smooth chest. The index finger and thumb pinched the peeking knob hard enough to move the foreskin back down before the rest of the palm closed over. It teased for a moment before moving to grab hips. repositioning the body the way he wanted it.

“I’ll be gentle if you want,” he whispered as their noses remained in contact. A flash of Fenris crossed Hawke’s mind though and he refused such kindness.

“I don’t need you to be gentle, Rutherford.” Arms draped around the strong back to leave red lines of scratches. “You and I both know what type of men we are.” A dark-blond eyebrow raised, but not out of confusion. Far from it. It was the truth, something he just wasn't used to hearing. The smirk remained as he was pushed back onto his elbows as Hawke lifted his own sack with his hole hovering over the writhing tool. He lowered his body down until the peak disappeared inside. There was a grunt from discomfort and the tightening of the ring that hadn’t been used in some time. Cullen hissed as well, his head falling back as his eyes closed. The rest of the way was worked down until the warmth of flesh touched his thighs again. His muscles tightened to support the weight, pushing off the mattress meet the other at least halfway. When Hawke slid up, he lowered his hips as well to be back on the bed.

Up and down, up and down, they moved in unison. Once in a steady pace, his eyes reopened to watch. The sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing was a major turn-on. Hawke looked incredibly sexy as he struggled to concentrate on his moments. A hand held and massaged his balls, purposely lifted for the view. That is, until his hands were taken and pulled down to the bed. His weight dropped as he struggled to continue moving with his wrists restrained. His ass slapped against white skin, bouncing from impact after impact. Their grunts and moans filled the room. The creaking bed and bodily collusions joined the chorus until Cullen yelled from the top of his lungs. With a final push, he released his seed inside. His cock spasmed while still being clenched as he covered rectum walls with the pent-up supply until emptied. Leaning back, he took the unspent dick on his stomach and jerked it roughly while still bouncing Hawke in his lap. The second orgasm shot over his abs and chest. “That’s a good boy,” he teased as he continued to milk the man, his thumb rubbing over the now wet slit.

Seren murred something as he leaned over, his face finding a nice place between Cullen’s neck and shoulders. He whined as he was rolled. Strong arms wrapped around him to ease his post-orgasm shaking as several kisses were placed on his face and forehead. With his hole empty, he could feel the liquid seeping out, but couldn’t care less about it. He could feel someone else’s heartbeat and smell their salty skin. It was something he had been craving more than he would ever admit. “Hawke? Seren?” His name was called, but he didn’t respond. Eyes remained closed as if he had passed out again. Legs tangled up carefully with his own and a blanket pulled over their bodies while the arm he had taken for a pillow remained still. “Sweet dreams then.” A hand finger-combed his moist, silver strands. “I love you.”

It was sometime around dawn when he decided it was best to get up. Cullen had fallen asleep, his arms still around Hawke without any sign of letting go. He was careful not to stir him too much as he unraveled himself to stand and dusted off the dry semen from his chest. Looking to the bed, he smiled. “...I love you too,” was whispered, but unheard by anyone else. He and Cullen had been friends for as long as he had known anyone else in Kirkwall. While Fenris may have been his intended, there was always something between him and his stoic friend. Something replaced the clenched feeling in his chest. Butterflies, maybe? Excitement? In the distance, his staff had fallen over during the night. When reached for, a glint of reflecting morning light caught his attention. Holding the magical weapon, he saw his reflection in the Templar’s armor. He saw how the world would always see him; as a mage. And behind him wasn't just Cullen Stanton Rutherford; it was the Knight-Captain.

No one would ever allow them to be together, something they both knew as the room grew less dark. Now more sympathetic to Anders’ cause, Hawke soon began a relationship with the other apostate. Browbeaten by Chantry morals, the threat of lyruim withdrawal, and a broken heart, Cullen turned his back on his friend even before the Chantry incident. Even while in chains to save Anders' life, the former-Champion keeps his secret lover in mind. He remembers a face before and after the scars. He remembers silver armor with a blazing sword emblem and a red cloak lined with fur. He remembers brown eyes staring at him as they kissed in the Gallows. As they pleaded with him to remain in Kirkwall. As they begged him to stay in Skyhold. His last thoughts were of sweet whispers and confessions until everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> The coin involved is the coin Cullen gives to his romance option in DAI. It's mentioned again in "Dorian's First Adventure and Other Codexes." All of my Dragon Age fics are linked, so if you're curious about other characters, please give them a read!


	3. Part Three

“Hawke? Hawke, are you alright?” The voice calling his name was muffled and his blurred vision could only make out certain details of yellow, combed-back hair with the masculine voice of concern.

“...Cullen?” was his first assumption as he tried to sit up in the bed and held his throbbing forehead.

“Cullen?” A frown was made with a shaking head as a hand reached out to touch the dewy, brown face. “You’re still burning up. No wonder you’re confused. Those shackles really did a number on you. Don’t move around so much, Seren. You’re still very weak.” There was a scoff as Hawke recognized the overbearing tone.

“Anders,” he confirmed his suspicions as his hand was taken carefully and guided to a cool, fuzzy cheek.

“Hello, love.”

“I told you I would take care of the Wardens,” he whispered in obvious disapproval. “You shouldn’t have come for me. Whatever deal you made with them, don’t trust it. Leave. Now.”

“Deal? Hawke, we sacked the fortress. Weisshaupt has been reclaimed by the Hero of Ferelden. We’re in Skyhold now.”

“Skyhold? But what about the Breach?”

“It’s been closed by the Inquisitor…who we also need to have a lengthy discussion about. Namely, in regards to how many illegitimate children you have had in the past twenty years. Don’t worry though, he’s perfectly fine. Takes a lot after you... ”

“I suspect that’s an insult,” was laughed as he blinked a few times attempting to clear the haze. “How long did the Wardens hold me for and how in the Maker’s name did I end up back here?” Arms came around to comfort his upper body as Anders settled next to him.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but you have to get better first. Just know that everything has been taken care of and we’re together again.”

“Don’t chastise me. You sound like a bloody lust demon.” Though he did lean over a bit more for the affection. Looking down, he rotated his wrists to examine the burn marks clearly remembering when those chains were clamped there and the pain they caused. “Those weren’t normal irons, were they? I could feel…death upon me.”

“Ah,” Anders frowned as he stroked Hawke’s long, white hair resting upon his shoulder. “The Tevinter with your son said they were from the Venatori, used to restrain mages in their country by engraving runic seals in the metal. The key was a rune itself, changing the phrasing from ‘lock’ to ‘release’. A more humane approach than turning mages tranquil, I suppose, though it was still...difficult to see you in such a state. I hardly recognized you with black hair and bluish-grey eyes.”

“The colors changed when my magic was sealed? Suppose that makes sense. It changed when my magic activated, though the reverse seems…strange.”

“And your son has the same affliction, but your sister didn’t?” There was a nod to the question.

“Yes, my father told me it is because we are weaker than the women or maybe it’s less abrupt for them? The force of my family’s magic hit me, at least, all at once. It was a very painful change. Far worse than my voice dropping a few octaves or those awkward, uncontrollable erections.”

“You still get those.” A precocious hand was placed on a nearby thigh while leaning in for a kiss, but Anders found himself avoided and alone as the other mage stood. Wearing only a thin pair of light-brown cloth pants, Hawke shook his head with hands on his hips.

“Anders,” he began to say as his eyes focused on the floor. “We're still not okay.”

“But everything is over with! The false Calling and the Breach, even the zealous Wardens and Red Templars. We made it…”

“You trying to kill me after we got to Ferelden had nothing to do with any of those things! Those Templars we saw on the road were just recruits. They were kids, Anders. They had nothing to do with the war just like the mages I defended with you in Kirkwall. Maybe it was the false Calling that made you snap when I refused to hurt them or maybe it was because of the rifts. I-I don’t know, but the scar remains. If not for Justice, I wouldn't even be here and even before that…” Anders fell silent as he looked down.

“You’re right. There was so much...madness. Madness I created. I lost myself and lost focus on what I was trying to accomplish, but look at the end result! We’re free! Free from the circles and the Templars!” He stood to take Hawke by the hands. “We’re free to finally love each other the way we always wanted to...”

“I _always_ loved you the way I wanted to,” Seren sadly smiled. “But you never loved me back. Not in the same way. You were holding out for all of this to come together and I honestly don’t blame you. I blame myself. I never clearly said how I felt and didn’t make it so you could love me safely in return. It wasn’t the world that scared you, it was me.”

“...So, let’s start over,” Anders urged, keeping a grip. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

“We can’t.” A few tears leaked from Hawke’s eyes as he loosened his fingers to slip away. “Because there will always these ghosts between us.” He took a deep breath as he tried to collect the rest of his words caught in his chest and throat. “I slept with someone while Justice controlled your body. I shouldn’t have, but I did and it wasn’t the first time we had been intimate. We were.. _something_...briefly while in Kirkwall before you and I were...” The blond’s eyes grew wide as he turned away, visibly shaking as he sat down once again.

“So, you did manage find Fenris after all?”

“No, not Fenris nor Isabela if you are speculating that. It was...the former Knight-Captain.” Anders nearly choked.

“Cu...Cullen?! You slept with Cullen? Wait, but in Kirkwall? But he was a Templar! How could you…? Why didn’t you ever tell me?!"

“I said it was brief,” Hawke tried to explain. “We were close friends before the red lyrium's effect began to seep and I didn’t tell you because…” His voice trailed off as he crossed his arms. “Frankly, I didn’t want you to use it against him. I thought it didn’t matter, at first, then you began lying to me about what you were doing with the mages. Cullen was and is a good man. Like my brother, he had little choice but to go along with Meredith’s crazy.” An accusing finger poked at his chest when Anders stood once again.

“He _used_ you just like every other Templar uses mages and would have turned you in the very moment you stopped spreading your legs for him! I can’t believe…!”

“For Andraste's sake, I turned myself in and he refused to follow through with it!"

“...What? What do you mean you turned yourself in? To the Templars? When…? Why?” Hawke looked away, closing his eyes since he honestly didn't want to talk about it.

“...After Fenris left and mother was killed, I got very, very, very drunk and turned myself over to him so I could be locked away. I thought I was just like every other mage out there. One slip and I would kill someone innocent just as my mother’s murderer did. He cleaned me up, nursed me back to health, and refused to turn me over to the Order because he cared for me. We couldn’t be together because of how things were. He was a Templar, a Knight-Captain even, and I was an apostate. No amount of special treatment or accolades would change that in the eyes of Chantry law. It’s why I became more sympathetic to your cause, honestly. I never thought of you as a replacement though. Not for Fenris or for Cullen. I grew to love you as one naturally would. Your passion, your kindness, your hope. I never thought change would come in my lifetime. You were the only one in my heart.”

“...And now I’m not,” was said bitterly and was reluctantly shrugged at.

“Things between began to end the day you lied to me about your so-called potion for Justice. When you thought I could be manipulated and not piece together what those ingredients could do. When I realized that I wasn't trustworthy enough to be told the truth. When I had to be threatened before I was willing to help you. When I began to follow you night after night you snuck out of our bed to pay off whatever bribe you agreed to for whatever information you thought you needed to further your cause. When I grew numb and played ignorant because I just wanted you to stay. In Kirkwall, I loved you. I loved you more than you ever believed I did. I loved you still even after every lie, every misdirection, and every betrayal. No matter how one-sided I knew it was, I remained loyal and exclusively yours. I’m not leaving you for anyone, Anders. That will be blaming someone else for our mistakes.”

“But you are leaving.” Moving to sit down, Hawke slumped his shoulders.

“I...I don’t know. Honestly, I never thought I’d live long enough to have this conversation. At first, I thought I’d be killed in Adamant, then surely when I turned myself over to the Wardens in exchange for your freedom. All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

"You thought killing yourself would make me happy?”

“No more than you did when you sat on a crate and expected me to end your life for what you had done,” Hawke nudged. “It didn’t escape me that you destroyed the place where Karl died, you know. Or that you expected me to put you out of your misery as you did for him. Everyone else may have thought it was to get strike a blow with the Chantry, but it wasn’t. Not really. I also knew that even if the war did end the way you wanted it to, you’d still be obligated to the Grey Wardens. I wanted to give you your true freedom. Something you deserve.”

“You...deserve to be happy too and I never thought of you as a replacement for Karl either, Seren.”

“That’s because no one could ever take his place.” Small smiles were exchanged as their eyes locked and searched for something beyond simple sentiment, but there just wasn’t enough to light a new spark. A knock on the door broke their silent acceptance and Hawke stood as it opened. Cullen froze upon his arrival at the scene. His lips were parted as he had something he wanted to say, but the sight of Anders refrained him from doing so.

“Apologies, I didn’t know… I’ll return later.”

“No need,” Anders sighed as he stood as well. “I was just leaving. I saw a tavern in the courtyard and I am in dire need of a drink...or twenty. I will…see myself out.” He gave a small nod to the commander as he quickly left, who watched his every step. As the door closed, a final glance into the room showed Cullen dropping the change of clothes he had brought up as he rushed to smother Hawke in a desperate hug.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispered as he refused to let go until his red fur-lining was gripped and tugged. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he then stammered with tears and a red face. “I shouldn’t… With Anders here, I know that you’ll be…”

“I told him,” Hawke interrupted. “Not every detail, but I told him what happened between us.” There was a look of shock.

“You...didn’t have to do that. I would have understood if you wanted it to remain a secret.”

“No,” Hawke’s head lowered. “Anders and I have a history of not being honest with one another. It needed to stop. I told him about what happened in Kirkwall as well. He has the right to know. I lied to you as well though, about this scar.” Dry lips pressed together as brown eyes softened.

“I figured as much, but I do not blame you. You were protecting someone you cared for, even if you are a terrible liar. I also know you went to Weisshaupt to die and it wasn’t my place to stop you. I haven’t earned that privilege yet, but I’m not going to pretend not to be overwhelming grateful that you're still live. The Maker has answered my prayers and I will not waste His gift.” He took a hand, covering the top of it with his other as he leaned in. “I love you. Every part of me loves you. It’s about time I stopped letting fear come between us.”

“...But I have nothing for you though. No gold, no home, no title, and no room for any more promises. There’s nothing for you to take advantage of nor anywhere my name will bring influence in your favor. I would be your complete and utter burden. The deadweight around your neck.”

“…At least you have your wedding vows ready.”

“I’m being serious, Rutherford!”

“So am I,” he snickered. “And you didn’t really have any of those when we first met either doing odd jobs for a dwarf at the chance to go treasure hunting. With Varric here in Skyhold, I have a feeling not much will change.”

“And yet you’re still a man of means. Being the Commander of the Inquisition isn’t something to take lightly.”

“And if the day comes that being so stands between us, I will happily remove the title from my ridiculously long name.” Hawke’s nose crinkled as he tried his best not to smile at the joke. He ultimately ended up failing and snorted while making a perverse replacement of the ex-Templar’s middle name to ‘Stallion’ which ended in a passionate kiss. In the tavern, the distraught healer pulled up a barstool next to a large Qunari with an eyepatch.

“You look in need of a drink if I’ve ever seen it,” the brute said.

“You look in need of a shirt,” Anders grumbled, but did not refuse the mug of ale slid his way.

“They just get in the way!” his new drinking comrade laughed heartily. “First covered in blood, full of holes from the stabbing, then all tangled up from a victory fuck. Awful!”

“You don’t say?” huffed the mage as he realized he was either being poorly courted or attempted to be cheered up. After a short sip, he put the cup down with a sigh. “And even now, Justice won’t let me get drunk.”

“Justice?”

“Oh, right. I’m Anders, starter of the Mage/Templar War, destroyer of chantries, and possessed by a spirit of justice from the Fade. Thank you for the drink, but I’m sure at least one of those things isn’t the kind of baggage you’re looking for right now.”

“Oh, you mean like Cole? He’s a spirit of compassion or something like that. Weird shit doesn’t bother me. Good on you for sticking to your convictions though. You wanted mage freedom, you set out to do it, and you even lived to see it happen. That’s...impressive, actually. Damn impressive. Then again, it also helps that you’re cute. Cute’s always a plus.” Anders’ face flushed. It had been some time since he had been called that.

“Maybe Justice will allow me to get drunk, just this once.” With a smile, he raised his mug in toast to have it clanked.

“The Iron Bull, but the way. That's what they call me."

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“On a good day? Both.”


End file.
